Prisoner of War
by Passiblewriter
Summary: The battle of Solitude rages, and Tullius prepares himself for his final fight. But instead of being killed as he expected, he is taken prisoner! Now a prisoner, Tullius has to deal with the reality of losing the Civil War and not dying in combat as he expected. Warning, this story is rated M due to suicidal thoughts and character deaths. Read at your own discretion.
1. Chapter 1

This is the end.

I can feel it. The bombardment. Boulders crashing into Solitude, the last bastion of The Empire in Skyrim. Nowhere left to go after this. I sit on the side bench and lower my head. I can't even look at the walls of the Castle, adorned with flags of a doomed empire.

"General, orders."

Rikke.

"Legate." I sigh." "There is no hope. Just delay them as much as possible."

Silence.

Rikke should bluntly tell me I'm wrong, she should tell me why I'm wrong, she should overstep her bounds while doing so. But that Rikke has been withered down by our losses. Instead, she leaves the castle.

She is disappointed, angry. I know that I am.

Less than a year and I've degenerated into this. I want more than anything to give an order, to command. But I can't command a force I know is doomed, I'm not strong enough.

How could this happen? I've stopped insurrections like this before, in Wayrest and Bravil. But the Stormcloaks, they've beaten us.

We were so damn close all those months ago. The intelligence was right, Ulfric was passing through Darkwater Crossing. We captured him, took him to Helgen. I rode down from Solitude to watch it myself. We were going to end the war.

But then the dragon came. When it attacked, the coward bolted in the chaos. I couldn't chase after him, I had to get the people to safety. He got away, and we were right back where we started. Month after month of the usual grueling, heartbreaking attrition followed Helgen. And sometime during that Stalemate, the Dragonborn joined the Stormcloaks. I don't know why, but she joined.

Was it because we thought she was a rebel, and tried to execute her at Helgen? Was she always a Stormcloak, but was just too busy to help them after she discovered she was Dragonborn? I do remember that she talked to me at Castle Dour, but didn't say much, mostly just let me talk. I didn't see or hear anything that suggested Stormcloak to me, she was a Dark Elf for the God's sake.

But that Elf joined them, gave them an advantage. Now the war is ending. And so is the Empire.

After the Stormcloaks take Solitude, the Council down in *IC will have given up. Sure they might send a few centuries into the border holds to appease the nationalists, but that will be the extent of it. The Council doesn't want a hard fight, and neither does Mede. Doesn't matter how much we'll suffer, they'll pretend that there's nothing left we can do.

We'll lose control in High Rock because of this. Those squabbling Breton nobles will eat each other up without a strong Legion nearby. And without Skyrim or High Rock, we'll stop being the Empire. We'll just be a damn kingdom.

I hear the door of Castle Dour open. Looking up, I see Rikke, armor scratched and burned.

"We're being pushed back. The rebels will break into Dour soon."

"I suppose Ulfric will come in here and kill us himself." I grumble. "Arrogant bastard he is."

"I won't let him." She snaps. "I haven't given up." I can feel her glare.

She should've been General instead of me.

*Abbreviation for Imperial City. I felt like Imperial City was too long of a name for people to use regularly, and that it would be more common to call it by an abbreviation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Second chapter, hooray! Thank you everyone who's still reading this fanfic.**

I hear the doors open. Standing up and walking forward from the bench, I see who I've been expecting.

Ulfric. Wearing the same fur cloak he wore at Helgen, but this time he's ungagged.

"Secure the door."

So that's what his deadly voice sounds like.

"Already done." A gravelly voice responds.

Looking closer, I see another man next to Ulfric, wearing the bear pelt common of high ranking Stormcloaks and wielding a battle axe. He's older than Ulfric, about my age. Must be Galmar.

And next to Galmar is what must be the Dragonborn, clad in Steel armor and wielding an Ebony Sword alongside a firespell. Her face is hardly visible under her worn helmet, but who else could it be?

After seeing who they are, I slink back to my seat.

"Ulfric, Stop."

What?

Is Rikke trying to negotiate? I know that she served with him during the Great War, but he started the civil war. He's a madman and a traitor, she's said so herself.

"Stop what?" Ulfric says, sauntering into the main room with Galmar and the Dragonborn trailing behind. "Taking Skyrim back from those who'd leave her to rot?"

"Your wrong Ulfric. We need the Empire. Without it, Skyrim will surely fall to the Dominion."

Don't bother legate. He's made his choice. The only thing we can do now is suffer the consequences.

"Fallen to the Dominion?" The Dragonborn hisses. "Thalmor patrols wander the roads of Skyrim, abducting the people you two have sworn to protect. And you say that your Empire is protecting us from them!"

She doesn't understand. None of them do.

"The Dragonborn is right Rikke, you know she is." Galmar says. "The Empire that protects its people is gone. You should know, you were there with us, you saw it. The day the Empire signed that damn treaty, was the day the Empire died."

He's partially right, as much as it breaks my heart to admit. Mede was too weak, ready to accept any peace treaty they shoved at. But it takes more than a treaty to kill the work of the Septims.

"Your a damn fool." Rikke says.

Galmar just ignores her. "Stand aside woman. We've come for the General."

I see. They want to kill Imperials, but not the ones they have a history with.

"He has given up." She says, turning to face me. "But I have not." She finishes, still looking at me.

What am I doing? Accepting my defeat? I can't die like this, I can't let the Empire die like this. I can't accept death at the hands of these traitors. We've lasted 500 years, and no treaty, no king, can ever kill it, not completely. I grip the hilt of my sword.

"Rikke go." Ulfric pleads. "Your free to leave."

Damn coward. Your gonna have to kill both of us.

"I'm also free to stay and fight for what I believe in."

"Your also free to die for it." Ulfric says.

"Is this what you wanted? Shield-brothers and sisters killing each other? Families torn apart? This is the Skyrim you want?"

"Dammit woman stand aside!" Galmar yells, his knuckles whitening as he grips his axe harder.

"That's not the Skyrim I want to live in." Rikke declares, pulling out her sword.

"Than die in it Imperial." The Dragonborn growls, charging up a fire spell.

"Hold, Stormblade!" Ulfric commands, his eyes still on Rikke. "Not yet."

Hearing her masters command, Ulfric's "Stormblade" lowers her hand, but keeps the spell charged.

Now that his pet has been reigned in, Ulfric turns his attention back to the Legate.

"Rikke. You don't have to do this." Ulfric begs.

She's a member of the Legion, Ulfric. She has to. But you wouldn't understand loyalty.

"You've left me no choice. Talos preserve us."

 **And that's the end of the second chapter! Sorry that it's taking a while for Tullius to actually get captured, but I promise that it'll happen soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow, my chapters look a lot longer on Microsoft Word than they do on . I'll try to make them longer. Maybe I could merge some chapters and/or add more description? Let me know what you think if you have any idea!**

"Enough! Enough."

I look up and see Ulfric, Galmar, and the Dragonborn, All brandishing weapons dripping with blood. Mine and Rikke's.

This is it. Oh Gods Rikke. The Stormcloaks have won.

"Any last words before I send you to Oblivion?" Ulfric sneers.

I muster up the strength I have left and speak.

"You realize this is exactly what they wanted?" I mutter, my broken body groaning with every word I force out.

"What who wanted?" Galmar asks.

He knows who I'm talking about.

"The Thalmor. They stirred up trouble here. Forced us to divert needed resources and throw away good soldiers quelling this rebellion."

"Typical Imperial, blaming everyone for your own actions." The dragonborn spits. "You wouldn't have had to divert anything if you had remembered your obligation to the people of Skyrim."

She doesn't understand.

"I couldn't agree more Stormblade. Besides Tullius, it's a little more than a rebellion don't you think?" Ulfric sneers, to the visible pleasure of Galmar.

"I suppose that surrender isn't an option?" I groan.

I can feel the smirk spreading across Ulfric's face.

"The Empire I remember never surrendered."

"Wait. Don't kill him."

The Dragonborn?

I crane my head upwards and see her, facing a wide eyed Ulfric.

Why? She's been the most antagonistic one out of all three, she was one second away from firing a spell at Rikke, and now she wants to spare me.

"Explain Stormblade."

"If we killed him, we'd be honoring him as a soldier. But leaving him in disgrace would send a stronger message, don't you think? Besides, killing him would make future cooperation with the Empire harder."

No, don't listen to her Ulfric.

"Hmm. You make good points. Galmar, what do you think?"

"The Empire can go to Oblivion! And if you don't want to give him a soldier's death, than just hang the bastard for treason against the people he swore to protect."

"You both make valid points."

That's what he calls Galmars ramble? A valid point?

"We will settle it later however. Now is the time for Skyrim, not those who would see it decayed and rotting. Stormblade, escort your prisoner to the dungeons of the castle and heal him. Afterwards, come outside to the courtyard for the speech. Don't worry, we'll wait for you."

"Of course."

A wet, metallic hand grips onto my neck.

"Get up." The Dragonborn growls.

I'm yanked upwards onto my feet; The Dragonborn than grabs my arm and drapes it onto her scratched and bloody pauldron, while putting her arm under my other arm. She then crosses over to the dungeon, carrying me with her.

The hero of the Stormcloaks, so close that I can smell her sweat. This is the one who's caused so much pain, so much suffering. Countless good men of the Legion lost to her blade and spell, women widowed and children orphaned. And now she wishes to deny me of my right to join them.

"Stay here." She says, dropping me down near the door to the dungeon.

Looking across the room, I see Rikke. Blood pools around her limp corpse. Minutes ago she was alive, living and breathing.

Rikke, I'm so sorry. I wasn't strong enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**I made this one a little longer by including some stuff I was originally planning to be used for a future chapter. Hope that doesn't disrupt the pacing!**

I wake up on a cold stone floor, though I don't remember sleeping. I lift my head up from the hard ground, and look around.

I'm in a small jail cell, with the only furnishings being a bucket and a tiny bed covered with pelts. Looking out of the bars of the cell, I see multiple floors housing unusually empty cells.

Castle Dour dungeon.

"What's that? General Tullius? Is that you?"

The voice is coming from the cell to the right of mine.

"Yes." I answer, facing to the right.

"I saw you lying motionless on the floor when the Stormcloaks dragged me here, I thought they killed you. But obviously they didn't."

Unfortunately.

"Yeah, they didn't." I mumble. "So, do you have a name that I could address you with?"

"I'm Ahtar. The executioner? I beheaded Roggvir."

"You're the executioner? I'm surprised the rebels haven't killed you yet."

"So am I, but the worst thing they did was take a couple cheap-shots at me. I suppose they're planning on publicly executing me later. Ironic punishment you know." He says calmly.

I've spent so much time hoping the Stormcloaks will kill me, that hearing this man say that he'll probably get executed makes me jealous.

"So uh, why didn't they kill you?" He asks.

"I don't know." I lie. "Hey, where are all the other prisoners?"

"They all claimed to be Stormcloaks, so the rebels let them out so they could listen to Ulfric's speech."

"They just let any criminal claiming to be a Stormcloak out?"

"Yeah, I told them it was a bad idea, but they said that they'd "keep an eye on them". He says, using an exaggerated Nordic accent when quoting the Stormcloak.

Idiots. Most of em will esc-

"So why didn't they kill you?"

" _Su Grah Dun!" The Dragonborn shouts. She bombards Rikke with stabs and slashes, the heavy Ebony sword swinging effortlessly with power only the thu'um could grant. Galmar and Ulfric have me pinned in a corner, I can't move to assist Rikke. The stabs and slashes puncture the weaker parts of her armor, and the few lightning-fast stabs she does block only tire her shield arm._

 _Unable to push her body any farther, Rikke collapses onto one knee. At this opening,like a wolf pouncing onto its prey, the Dragonborn jams a sword through Rikke's neck._

I hear a creaking door being opened, followed by heavy boots walking down stone stairs. Looking up, I see two Stormcloak soldiers walking towards my cell, One is wearing a closed-face guard helmet and carrying a bundle of ragged clothes, and the other wearing an open-face helmet with two horns poking out of it. Guard-Helmet shoves the clothes through the bars.

"Tullius, take off your armor and put these on." Horned Helmet says. "You're coming with us."

"Where to?"

Horned Helmet furrows his blond brows.

"We're not taking you to be executed, we're not like you."

Damnit, looks like the Dragonborn convinced Ulfric.

I stand up slowly. "Then where am I going?" I say, my arms crossed.

"If it'll make you more cooperative, we're taking you to the docks. There's a boat there that'll drop you off at a prison."

My heart races. The dishonor of not only losing Skyrim, but also being captured by barbarians like these, flashes through my head as if sent from Vaermina herself. And this dishonor would not just be on me.

" _Remember cadets!" The instructor yells. "All soldiers of the Imperial Legion are extensions of the Empire itself. Any cases of theft, cowardice, and weakness are not just committed by you, but the Empire itself. Remember this, for the Imperial Legion is the most visible form of the Empire._

"I'm not leaving."

The two rebels stand silently, and than walk away. They start whispering to each other, unsure what to do when faced with a dedicated Imperial Soldier. They start walking back.

"Tullius, if you won't willingly come with us, then we'll have to use force."

"You can try that." I reply.

The two stand dumbly in place, once again unsure what to do.

Take that you traitorous bastards, you can't command me.

"Uh, Stay there." Horned Helmet says. He and the other rebel walk away, back up the stairs.

"Wow. That was uh, that was something alright." Ahtar chuckles.

"Brave? Stupid?"

"Maybe a bit of both" Ahtar laughs. "Uh, no offense."

"Ah don't worry about it. All the great soldiers of history owe both to their success. You think Tiber Septim attacked Sancre Tor in the dead of winter because it was the smart thing to do?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi everyone who's reading this! I'm sorry for the long wait. I don't really I have an excuse, I just didn't post because I was lazy. But I'll try to upload more often now. By the way, sorry about chapter 4. There was a part in it where there was supposed to be a long vertical line between Tullius's flashback and the Stormcloaks coming down into the dungeon,in order to show passage of time, but it didn't show up in the chapter.**

"Tullius!" A Nordic voice roars

Accompanied by a mage and three other Stormcloaks, including the horned helmeted one, is a pelt clad Stormcloak commander standing right in front of my cell. He opens the door and then starts to speak.

"Ralof tells me that you refuse to come quietly." He hisses. "Well, this mage is an expert in Alteration magic and is able to cast Paralysis. If you don't lie down on the ground now, with your hands behind your back, this mage will paralyze you. You have ten seconds Imperial."

"Just paralyze me already damnit."

The Commander narrows his glaring eyes.

"Svelda! Now!"

A pale green light flashes before my eyes.

Stillness. I can't breathe, and my legs are frozen in place. I'm starting to lean over, Oh Gods I'm gonna fall. I'm moving everything in my body, but they won't budge.

The floor races towards me, but suddenly it stops. Now instead of the floor rushing towards me, it's the ceiling slowly backing away from me, but I don't see much else. What if this lasts forever?

I suddenly feel light, and I hear a metallic bang. I than feel my arms getting grabbed and pinned behind my back, followed by something coarse wrapping itself tightly around my wrists.

I feel a finger wiggle, followed by a twitch of my wrist. As I start to move my neck to see my surroundings, I get yanked up onto my feet. My legs tremble, but I manage to find my footing. Looking down, I see that my breastplate has been removed, revealing the padded cloth armor I wear underneath the breastplate.

The rebels shove me forward, bringing me back into the world. Looking behind, I see the Stormcloak commander scowling and prodding me forward with his axe. Turning back to the front, I see the mage.

"When can I expect payment for this Istar?" She says.

"As soon as we get this sonofabitch in the boat." Istar growls. "Now shut up, I've got my hands full."

It's a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. I hurt the Stormcloaks.


End file.
